


Homeward Bound

by The_Secret_Life_Of_Tea



Series: Travels [1]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Autistic Character, Character Study, Family Feels, Gen, Introspection, Neurodivergency, Tourette’s Syndrome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-12-07 14:21:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18236060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Secret_Life_Of_Tea/pseuds/The_Secret_Life_Of_Tea
Summary: Klaus needs his family. He never knew they needed him, too.





	Homeward Bound

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Princex_N](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Princex_N/gifts).
  * Inspired by [learn to live with it](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18104741) by [Princex_N](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Princex_N/pseuds/Princex_N). 



The sugar has settled at the bottom of his coffee mug, but he doesn’t mind it. In fact, he revels in that last swig of grit, the tang on his tongue enough to pull a smile from his face. 

It’s morning. Usually he would not be up before the afternoon sun penetrated the shades and streamed onto his cheeks, sneaking up to dive beneath his eyelids and warm them, light them afire, but today is one of those days where the toss and turn of his bed has made him seasick. It’s the rock and sway of a lifeboat caught within the jaws of a storm at sea, evidence of the cruel efforts of sobriety wracking his mind. 

He tics, a short yelp ripping from his chest coupled with a twitch of the shoulder, but he is alone, and alone serves him well. At least alone means the others aren’t there to comment—Allison sighing, Five snipping and sniping and dissecting until he feels a bug flattened under the glass of a microscope. 

He already knows there’s more than a few things wrong with him. That’s an easy enough conclusion to arrive at. Doesn’t need their pointing it out again and again.

Whatever, he never liked normal anyway, he says to himself, and that same sugar-sweet smile stretches his lips. 

He pours another coffee.

———

Sometimes he sees ants in the mansion. Not enough to call them a colony, never mind an infestation, but noticeable enough as he’s splayed out on the carpet, limbs jerking. Withdrawal’s a real bitch, sure, but he’d feel heartless if he did not acknowledge them and their endless toil. 

Five finds a lump of sugar swarmed by ants the next day. Klaus keeps his head angled toward his feet as he walks and whispers hello to the ants as they bustle along. 

———

Diego knows. It’s only after the separation, after everything, that they reconnect as brothers. Perhaps reconnection is a strong word, it’s more like the first coming together, more like sitting at a table and a jerk of the limbs and a whistle from pursed lips from Klaus, with no accompanying glaring sigh from Diego.

They all start to get it after Vanya very casually drops a pamphlet on the table after breakfast, nodding at them all curtly.

It’s got the words “autism and related neurodviergencies” printed in glossy lettering. For Klaus, it’s a breath of air among the too-long words, an explanation. It’s the best gift he’s ever received, but not the only one.

A steady hand on his back from Luther after a nightmare.

A smile devoid of pity as he flaps his hands for love of a sunbeam from Allison. 

A glass of water by his bedside table as he takes a prescribed antipsychotic, the only prescribed medicine he’s ever had, and the shadow of a short, assured boy leaving his room.

A hug for the first time from Diego after a sensory meltdown in which he’s banged his head bloody, and the promise of brothers forged in the steel of disability.

He could hold a grudge, he’s sure, but it’s easier to melt into the newfound acceptance and stay there, like a puppy tucked next to the warmth of a radiator. 

———

He likes the violin. 

Likes the way Vanya can conjure noise from nothing, make the instrument sing in a way that no human voice can replicate, make Klaus’ body move in a sway to reflect his own peace.

Stimming, she’d called it, and he’d nodded but not listened, simply tapped his fingers against his jaw and waited for her to take up the bow again. Vanya smiled and lifted the bow to strings, and Klaus flapped his hands.

———

Beneath the desk is safe. He’s curled there in a ball like a roly-poly bug. 

It had been a rough day—not all arguments had stopped, and old wounds still healed in the light of day, where all could see. Breakfast had led to a petty argument which had led to raised voices which had led to his door slamming and him tucked up under the desk. 

It’s dark. 

One by one, sets of footsteps near his door. A whimper, a tic, but he stays as quiet as he can. 

His siblings file in. Are they angry with him? Are they here to shout him out like Dad did all those years ago, pointing his flaws out with the precision of an incensed schoolteacher?

No. They’re not here to do that, he realizes, as Luther reaches out a hand. Klaus grasps it, and it’s warm.

Soon he’s settled on Luther’s lap, held close in a deep pressure hug, and his siblings stroke his hair and back. He almost feels like he’s coming down from a high, but there are not rats to scrabble across his face or men to kick him in the ribs.

He’s safe. He’s warm. He’s homeward bound.


End file.
